


No Reason

by helens78



Category: Queen of Swords
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Merry Month of Masturbation Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-05-02
Updated: 2005-05-02
Packaged: 2017-10-05 20:00:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/45548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helens78/pseuds/helens78
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Helm and Montoya, separately, perform some very basic bodily functions for no reason whatsoever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Reason

**Author's Note:**

> For MMoM (the merry month of masturbation), which has to be one of my favorite fandom traditions as it's my bulletproof kink. I almost never get around to writing anything for it, which is a shame, as I enjoy the heck out of it.

It's a perfectly natural thing. Helm would tell anyone that, even though he knows he'd get a shocked look half the time and a scandalized one the rest. But it's just a necessary physical release, and it's cleaner and safer and healthier than any of the whores in town.

_Right. Which is why you do it so often, and why you're thinking of him when you do._

A man's thoughts are his own private domain. It doesn't matter if he touches himself while he's thinking of Montoya, thinking about how he looks out of his clothes and how his sweat smells. They're not particularly erotic images -- just a doctor's memories of his patient -- but the mind's a strange place, the cock an even stranger one, and if it arouses him thinking about Montoya's body under his hands, the warmth of fever making his skin flush, then there's nothing wrong with that. And does it matter if it's strange? Many things arouse the sexual drive; they don't need to make sense.

And this doesn't. Wanting Montoya doesn't make sense. Montoya is a scoundrel, greedy, power-crazed, and Helm doesn't trust him for a minute. But that doesn't matter to his cock. Montoya's also charming, attractive, with a voice that slips over him like silk and makes him wonder what it would be like if Montoya were talking to him like a lover.

He'd top, of course. He'd insist on it. Helm would have to roll over -- there's no way Montoya would agree to face-to-face -- and Montoya would press the length of his body to Helm's, lips at Helm's ear, murmuring at him.

_Do you like it? Does it feel good? What if I do this?_

It doesn't mean anything. It's a perfectly natural thing.

Which is why Helm bites down on his fist when he comes, eyes shut tight, and why he's carefully neutral every time he sees Montoya. What he thinks of when he's pleasuring himself is nobody's business but his own.

* * *

Montoya keeps a small bottle of oil next to the bed, and while sometimes it's for Grisham, sometimes he uses it when he's alone. And Grisham doesn't even enter his thoughts on nights like those.

It's not the Queen, either, though perhaps it ought to be. The Queen hanging, but not before he's had her, taken her like a common whore and made her beg. Those are idle daytime thoughts, not the nighttime visions that sear the mind and bring hand to cock for long, languid strokes.

Helm. Irritating, confounding man. Not like Grisham at all. Grisham jumps when Montoya tells him to, though he may groan about it. Helm is no one's animal, on no one's leash, but it's oh-so-pleasant to imagine that he is.

Leashed, no, not literally, but bound, hands behind his back, mouth tilted up and ready to serve -- that's a pleasant thought which has served Montoya many nights, an image he never grows tired of. He can imagine sliding his cock between Helm's lips, thrusting in and out with his fingers tangled in Helm's hair, and it's a beautiful image that still makes him come hard every time.

Then there's the thought of Helm on his hands and knees, whispering. Soft words like _please_ and _more_ and _yes, Colonel_. He'd rather hear incoherence, though, sounds that aren't words at all, groans that get increasingly louder as Helm gets closer and closer to his release--

\--and Montoya's cock jerks in his hand, streaks dripping over his fingers. Montoya's mouth opens wide as he comes so he can gasp out his pleasure.

He could have Helm. Perhaps he could even make Helm beg. But to force the issue would be to give up a hint of power, allowing Helm to know how much he _wants_ it, and that is not an option. His hand -- and his thoughts -- will have to do.

_-end-_


End file.
